Now S. thinks we may be in Hanoi till the Jimmy Carter Work Project ends in November.  Clearly, I am learning to anticipate these kinds of announcements, as I had already mentioned to my mother that I thought this might be the case.  Incidentally, when I spoke with my mom this morning she offered elaborate commentary on Vietnamese politics and the renaming of cities after the war, that I was unable to follow or make sense of–explanations she said had come from my Uncle Paul.  I simply don’t think this could be the case.  My mother either misunderstood what he said or gave him misinformation about where we would be living.  I called her back at one point thinking she must have told my uncle we were going to Korea rather than Vietnam.  You have to know my mother and my uncle to appreciate the humor in this.  However, I suspect she told my uncle we were going to Korea, because in our conversation she kept saying “Korea” instead of “Vietnam.”  Oh, well, no one other than my siblings or cousins could appreciate this comedy of errors that is communication in our family.

As I write this, however, S. is driving back from Atlanta.  Hopefully she’ll be home by 9 o’clock this evening.  She fortunately confused her departure date.  She leaves for Asia a week from Sunday rather than Saturday, which means we’ll have an extra day together.    It feels now like every day matters more than ever.

Today I researched Hanoi–cost of apartments, best district for expat residence, jobs teaching English, and visa renewal policies and procedures.  I have an enormous amount to learn.  I’m even ignorant about the geography of South East Asia, which is not good.

More change is on the way–S.  is still in Atlanta, will return home Friday evening, and leave a week from Saturday for Hanoi, where she will become her NGO’s interim national director for Vietnam.  We had thought the  first stop in our upcoming Asian adventure would be Bangkok, but how quickly things change!  And this could not have been more unexpected!

Our plan prior to this had anticipated S’s taking a series of shorter trips this spring beginning  March 8th, trips that would have  allowed her to return home between assignments to India, Jordan, Indonesia, and Geneva.  Then suddenly late yesterday afternoon this appointment in Vietnam became inevitable.  I suspect I’m adjusting well to the reality that a two month separation is nearly upon us, that is until I can make it to Hanoi myself when the semester ends around the 1st of May.  We don’t expect to settle in Bangkok until later this summer.

Also important is the fact that the chair of the English Department at Oral Roberts University, where I taught in the late 80’s contacted me this week.  This excites me considerably, as it puts me in touch, not only with Bill, but also with my other colleagues from that time.  This is a good thing–a very good thing.

Wow–lots of people read my post yesterday!  This is exciting.  It motivates me to actually invest a bit of energy in improving what I write.  Yeah, here I am the composition  teacher having to motivate herself to write.  Any students who read this can now be assured that I too dread having to put pen to paper sometimes.  It can be a pain in the ass when you just don’t want to be bothered.  And often I sooooo don’t want to be bothered. 

But sometimes my students inspire me to try harder, to do better, to not take the easy way out.  I just received an email from a student who is working on a piece about the most under-renovated classroom on campus, and some of his lines are stunningly funny.  It’s inspiring to watch these kids grow as writers and as human beings.  So many of them have the most amazing souls and truly brilliant minds.  I only wish I could have been as enlightened as they when I was 18 or 19 years old.  I may never have children, but at least I have the honor of watching these almost sons and daughters take deep looks inside themselves and mature into beautiful beings of whom I am most proud!

Wow–I just received what I think might be my first ever student complaint about a grade.  It seems that can’t be the case, but I don’t remember another.  Ironically this upset student received a “B-” on the essay–not easy to achieve on ones first college English paper.  If this person had only had her work graded by many of the other instructors in the department who actually have difficult to achieve standards.  I’m easy from what I hear–maybe not entirely “easy” but certainly not worse than middle of the road in my expectations of students.

At any rate, I met students in the library today, hoping to help them get started on research for this second essay, a first draft of which is due Thursday.  For the most part these sessions went well, and by now–late afternoon–I have even completed my grading for the day.  After I have finished this post, I can spend the rest of the evening reading–a luxury I absolutely adore.

However, I miss S., who just about now should be completing her first day back to work at her new job in Atlanta.  She stays till late Friday afternoon.  Hopefully after that she will be able to office at home until she leaves for India in March.  This is my first taste of her being away for longer than one night since we moved into this house–since her international travel a couple of years ago.  I suspect I’m adjusting fairly well so far.  At the very least I’m able to grade lots of papers without wanting so spend the time with her instead.  This gives me an opportunity to adjust to her absence without feeling overwhelmed by an extended separation.

S. left for Atlanta this afternoon, as tomorrow is her first day of employment with the NGO whose international headquarters are located there.  You could say this officially launches a lifestyle that will return us to Asia later this spring and end my current work with the University of Kentucky Writing Program in May.

Yesterday S. and I pampered ourselves in honor of Valentines Day–treating ourselves to manicures and pedicures, a late lunch and shopping at Joseph Beth, our favorite bookstore in Lexington.  I purchased Norah Vincent’s Voluntary Madness,  her most recent work,  narrating her year long immersion in and expose of  in-patient psychiatric hospitals–so far a fascinating study.  In fact, I want to hurry and finish this post, so I can return to reading it before bed this evening.  However, I must also discipline myself to write, dedicating enough energy and time to making this blog meaningful and fun.

Yet, often, as I mentioned the other day, I feel as if I’m merely going through the motions of writing–typing words and assembling them into sentences that amount to nothing more than discipline, to little more than exercises in commitment keeping.  I said I would do this, so I must and shall.  I know no other way.

I’ve spent much of the day grading papers, reading student prose until, exhausted, I fell asleep around  noon and remained sleeping for four solid hours.  I returned to reading soon after waking, and have only in the past 30 minutes or so put the papers away, completely depleted by the process.  Trying to get through too many essays in one day inevitably leaves me irritated and overwhelmed.

In the meantime, I’m not at all pleased with the quality of writing I’m producing here.  My sentences seem to limp along with little energy, as I stumble from one lame idea to the next.  I don’t feel able to accomplish what I ask my students to achieve–a vigorous prose style that maintains reader interest and compels audiences to return for more.  Some student work amazes me.  And it seems I should be able, at the very least, to accomplish what I ask these kids to.  So far I’ve failed.

Clearly, succeeding as a writer, rather than simply making it as one who teaches the skill to another, requires an ability  that, as of yet, I seem to lack.  Surely an exotic location, such as Thailand, doesn’t suddenly in and of  itself make one a more effective writer.  I must succeed here, if I’m to succeed in that setting.  Yes, the richness of the experience may lend itself to better prose at the beginning.  However, newness will eventually  be replaced by  routine.  Good writing requires one to make even the mundane more meaningful and engaging.

I’ve finished my last day of teaching for the week.  It’s not like the past few days have exhausted me and it’s energy depletion that makes me excited about three days away from school.  Rather, I’m concerned about the number of papers I have to grade and wanting to return them to my students before their next drafts are due a week from today.  Then again, it’s Valentines Day weekend and I look forward to spending it with  S.  I’m acutely aware of her departure for Atlanta on Sunday and her traveling to India in March.  Our time together is limited, and I want to capitalize on each and every opportunity.

Also, today I attended a committee meeting for the Evening with the Mountain Keepers event, which was far superior to last week’s gathering.  At that time my frustration was enormous, as I thought I was facing the group’s inability to use the drawing I had completed for them a couple of weeks ago.  That concern left me feeling like I had little if anything to contribute.  The other women in the group are exceptionally gifted in managing the logistics of such an event–a skill I most certainly lack.  I guess, I felt inferior and useless–especially if  my creative contributions weren’t able to be used.  Yet things look much different this week.  Anne is now wanting to sell signed prints of my drawing at the event.  And that prospect thrills me.  I am genuinely enthused.

Teaching went well today.  Nothing totally dreadful.  Nothing amazing either.  Just you basic okay day, until I got home and S. and I began to argue.  Then things began to feel less okay, even though what we were arguing about was meaningless–ridiculous really.  Now I feel deflated.  Now I can’t lift myself from this pit of moderate misery.  I no longer feel happy, and, in fact, I had felt happy earlier in the day.  I had wanted to read this evening.  Now I don’t care about even that, which is sad, as I consider reading one of life’s greatest pleasures.  Blah, blah, blah–I have nothing to say–so good night.

This afternoon I told Deborah  my plans to not teach in the fall, and fortunately she responded as I had hoped.  Read yesterday’s post to appreciate the importance of this.  Clearly, my revelation did not merit the anxiety I had attached to it.  And this is a good thing–a very good thing!  Deborah expressed excitement for me and seemed to suggest I would be welcome to return in a year or two or whenever we stop traveling.

This morning reference librarians oriented my students to databases that will allow them to do the research necessary for this essay and the next.  I love listening to others teach my classes.  I left school this afternoon as energized as I arrived there this morning. 

It’s hard to believe we’ve completed a quarter of the semester already.  May will arrive in a few short months.  And, in fact, it should be easier than originally anticipated to survive my separation from S., as we learned yesterday, that she will not leave the US before March and may return home between a trip to India scheduled for then and her eventual departure for  Thailand.  This may allow us to travel to Atlanta in mid March for Millard Fuller’s memorial service and visit with friends from Americus who will attend the same event at Ebenezer Baptist Church.  So all in all I may skip myself through the spring and hop scotch my way  into May with a lot less struggle and a good deal more merriment than I originally thought possible.  Hooray for blessings big and small.

Today Deborah, the assistant director of the Writing Program, didn’t come into the office, so I was unable to meet with her or share my plans for the upcoming academic year.  This disappoints me.  I had hoped to get that revelation out of the way and be done with my anxiety about it.  Interestingly, though, I’m not at all aware why this makes me anxious  in the first place.  Perhaps, it has something to do with my wanting a response from her the nature of which I’m unable to articulate.  Do I want her to express disappointment about my departure?  Certainly, but I think it’s a difficult to define balanced response I’m hoping to hear.  I want a fairly strong expression of sadness, coupled with both a willingness to have me back in the future and a desire for me to do what most benefits my relationship with S.  Maybe I should script the most desirable response and send it to Deborah, so she can get her lines right. 

At any rate, S. and I removed the disgusting brown carpet from Rachel’s room this afternoon.  It’s good to have the smelly stuff bundled at the curb.  Now I only dread our having to sand and refinish the floors–a dusty, dirty task however you stack it.  Yet, we have made considerable progress in the past couple of weeks.  In fact, recently the room was piled high with paraphernalia from power tools to Christmas cards, from miter saws to merry-go-rounds.  Okay, I exaggerate.  There may have been no ferris wheels or other state fair attractions stored in the space.  But it was one hell of a Kings Island to our cats who don’t know that their  brown carpeted theme park  is now housed in the attic or passed on to  Goodwill for good keeping.